A Drink and a Tale
by alynwa
Summary: Napoleon and Illya stop in Mr. Waverly's office before heading out on vacation and stay for a drink.


A Drink and a Tale

The two agents stepped off the elevator heading to Mr. Waverly's office. It was 10PM and they had just finished their mission report. Normally, they would have finished it in the morning but, they were going on vacation for a week and had stayed late to clear off their desks. They stepped into the anteroom that was Miss Rogers' office. She had gone home hours earlier but, they were expected, so they crossed to the Old Man's door and Napoleon knocked softly.

Mr. Waverly's voice could be heard clearly through the door. "Come in, Gentlemen."

When the door slid open, they noted that their superior was not alone. Section III Agent Salvatore Del Floria, the gatekeeper of UNCLE HQ's main agents' entrance was sitting off to one side of Mr. Waverly's communications' center holding a glass of what clearly smelled like Sambuca. Mr. Waverly sat in his usual spot puffing on his pipe as he held a match over the bowl; in front of him sat a glass of scotch neat. He looked into the eyes of his Chief Enforcement Agent. "Am I correct in assuming, Mr. Solo, that you and your partner have completed your report?"

Smiling broadly, Napoleon answered, "Yes, Sir." He placed a large interoffice envelope on the circular desk and as he turned it to put it in front of his boss, he added, "You will also find that my expense reports for the last two months are in there as is my statistics report for this month plus the list of agents who are currently assigned to missions along with their expected check – in times plus Illya's lab reports and recommendations."

"Your thoroughness, as always, is appreciated. Now, with that piece of business tended to, you and Mr. Kuryakin are officially on vacation. Join Sally and me for a drink before you go. Please, sit." He passed the bottle of Glenfiddich scotch whiskey to Napoleon and reached into a desk drawer and removed two more glasses. "Mr. Kuryakin, there is a small refrigerator in the storage closet in Miss Rogers' office in which you will find a 1 liter bottle of Beluga vodka in the freezer compartment."

"Thank you, Sir," Illya said as he stood to get the bottle. He was excited as he had never tasted this premium, high – end brand of vodka before and was quietly thrilled that the Old Man had offered it to him. When he returned, he poured three fingers' worth into the glass provided and he and Napoleon raised their glasses.

"To our health, Sir," Napoleon said and the four men saluted each other and drank.

Illya's first taste of the Beluga made him smile in appreciation. "Mr. Waverly, this is excellent vodka. Thank you for allowing me to drink it."

"You're quite welcome, young man. Sally and I were just sitting here reminiscing."

Napoleon was amused; he had never heard the tailor/dry cleaner referred to as "Sally" before. "May I be so bold as to ask what the conversation was before we arrived?"

Del Floria spoke up. "Alex and I were talking about how different my life might have been if we had never met and I had remained in Bari, Sicily. I was in law enforcement there, you know."

The younger men's ears perked up; they knew very little about Mr. Waverly's early days and even less about Mr. Del Floria's. "No, Mr. Del Floria," Illya responded, "I was not aware of what you did prior to UNCLE. You were a policeman?"

"I was Chief Detective of the Bari Police Department for twelve years and a detective for ten years before that and please, call me Sal."

Napoleon grinned. "Sal. How did you two meet?"

Mr. Waverly glanced at Sally before saying, "I was on a mission for MI6 that is still considered classified information; however, suffice it to say that I became a blip on Detective Del Floria's radar and he…_insisted _on speaking with me."

A light bulb went off over the Russian's head. "Sal _arrested _you, Mr. Waverly? What was the charge?"

The Old Man harrumphed and turned slightly red. "Prostitution but, it was all a misunderstanding that was cleared up once we arrived at the police station and my identity was verified. I was able to send the information I had gathered to London before Sally burst through my door."

The two agents shared a look between them that translated into _We are so going to talk about this when it is just the two of us! _Napoleon was about to ask Sal what caused him to notice, arrest and charge the Old Man but, when he saw those bushy eyebrows knit together out of the corner of his eye, he allowed his smile to fade as he took another sip of his drink. _My mother did not raise a fool, _he thought.

Sal picked up the story again. "Once my government received verification, Alexander was released. I felt a little bad that I could have jeopardized his mission so I invited him out for drinks. We went to a little café not too far from the station and chatted over glasses of beer."

He sipped his Sambuca and continued in his lightly Italian – accented English. "We were having a very pleasant time. For some reason, I felt I could confide in this Englishman. I told him that my wife had been pleading with me to get into another line of work. I was three years away from collecting my pension but, I had recently run afoul of the local _capo_ of _La Cosa Nostra _and she was terrified that I would be killedin retaliation. My father had taught me the family business of tailoring and dry cleaning but, I really enjoyed police work. I wanted to stay in the profession on some level. My darling Carmella feared that my days were numbered. And, she was probably right."

Illya was fascinated. "May I ask, Sal; what had you done to anger this _capo?_"

Sal grabbed the bottle of Sambuca. "You may," he replied as he refilled his glass, "His son had beaten up his girlfriend and when her brother confronted him, he was shot dead for his trouble. I arrested the son, made the case and made sure the jury was sequestered where his father's influence couldn't reach. The son was found guilty and sentenced to forty years. His father vowed to get revenge. In Sicily, that threat must be taken seriously."

Mr. Waverly harrumphed and said, "I told him that a new international law enforcement agency was being created and that I was going to be the head of the New York office. The mission that had brought me to Bari was my last for MI6. I asked him if he might be interested in immigrating to America to work for me."

Sal laughed, "When he said _that_, I said it is time you come home to meet my wife and eat some pasta. We talked for hours and then, after Alexander left to return to England, my wife and I talked until the sun came up. The job offer sounded like the answer to our prayers; my own business underwritten by this new organization and most important to me: A chance for a man past his prime to remain in law enforcement in a way that is just enough to wet my beak, as they say in the old country. The next day, I called the number he had given me and told him I accepted his offer. He used his contacts to expedite securing passports for Carmella and me. We were in New York City before that month was out. And, the rest of my story you basically know." He checked his watch and said, "Gentlemen, I must be going. Carmella is going to kill me."

Mr. Waverly said, "I'll drop you off; my security detail is in the garage. Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, can I drop you anywhere?"

Napoleon and Illya finished their drinks and stood up. "Thank you but, no," Napoleon replied, "Thank you so much for the drinks. This was very nice."

"_Da,_" Illya added, "Sal, thank you for a very interesting tale. You are a part of UNCLE's history I was unaware of before tonight."

As the four men headed to the elevators, Mr. Waverly nodded to his two field agents. "Enjoy your vacation, Gentlemen."


End file.
